For the Sake of Argument
by yellowhorde
Summary: Leon complains about the food D serves at teatime one time too many.


Disclaimer: I don't own Petshop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.

Pairing: Leon + D

Category: General

Rating: R

Warning: Language

Title: For the Sake of Argument

Author: yellowhorde

Notes: This was written for the LiveJournal community, 60minutefics. Trigger: Chinese Fortune Cookie – _'In most instances, all an argument proves is that two people are present.'_

FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT

"I don't know why you can't ever make anything that wouldn't put a man into a diabetic coma," Leon complained around a mouthful of cookie. "I'm amazed all my teeth aren't falling out."

D's lips tightened as he poured more tea into the Detective's half-empty cup. "Detective, if I may remind you, no one is forcing you to eat here," he replied shortly. "Heavens knows I wouldn't mind spending an occasional teatime alone without having to listen to your constant complaining."

"I only eat here because I don't have time to get anywhere during the lunch hour," Leon protested heatedly. "Traffic is a son of a bitch in this city, no matter what time of day it is. No wonder motorists are popping each other off in fits of road rage every time you turn around. It's fucking ridiculous."

"Watch your language, please, Detective," D admonished automatically. He set the teapot down on the table and eased into his own chair with a heavy sigh. Mismatched eyes peered at over the rim of his teacup and he twitched a tight smile at the other man. "You know, you could always bring your own lunch with you."

"You mean brown bag it?" Leon shook his head, his lips twisting into his own lopsided grin. "No can do, Count, the fridge in the break room is on the fritz. Everything inside went bad. Man, what a stink!" He chuckled at the memory.

It took more effort than was pretty, but D managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. He sighed and plucked a chocolate chip cookie from a lapis lazuli platter in the middle of the table. Taking a bite, he chewed thoughtfully for several moments. He tapped the tip of one finger against his lips.

"You know," he began slowly, "if you paid me, I could make your lunches for you every day, Detective."

This was immediately followed by a fit of hacking coughs after Leon choked on his tea in outrage. "P-pay you?" he sputtered once he was able to properly breath again. His eyes bulged and his face red from more than his coughing. "You want _me_ to pay _you_ to cook lunch for me? And why in hell would I do that?"

"Because food is expensive, Detective," D intoned coldly, "and if I were going to prepare your meals every day, the least you could do is compensate me for my time and effort."

"Why should I?" Leon exploded to his feet, planting his hands on the table hard enough to slosh tea over the edge of his cup and onto the saucer. "All I ever see around here are sweets and vegetarian dishes. And who in their right mind would want to eat _that_ all day, every day?"

D's eyes narrowed dangerously. He set his cup down and slowly rose to his feet, tension radiating off him like heat waves of the highway in August. "Are you saying my cooking isn't any good?" He asked in tones of pure ice. His face and body screamed anger, but his voice betrayed a touch of wounded pride.

Leon held out his hands, palms up, finger splayed. "Hey, whoa there, I said nothing of the sort. I'm just saying that it takes more than sweets, tofu and bean sprouts to feed a real man." Then he added hopefully, "But maybe if you threw in a few prime ribs or a burger or two we'd be in business."

"Detective, does it look like my body has died?" D asked, seemingly out of the blue.

"What the f-" Leon caught himself in time, realizing that his colorful use of language was not going to win him any points with the Count. Now was the time to be on his best behavior… or what passed as his best on any given day. "No, you look perfectly fine to me."

And this was true. Though D was short on stature and rather slender, he always kept his appearance neat… if a little girly. His clothes, dresses, whatever the hell they were, suited him and he couldn't even begin to image him wearing anything even remotely normal, like a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. His black hair framed his pale face and served as backdrop that only seemed to magnify the most peculiarly beautiful eyes he had ever seen, one yellow the other purple, and a pair of perfectly kissable pained lips.

_They must be pained, right?_ Leon thought today and on many other occasions, _because I don't know a single heterosexual man, or woman for that matter, who have natural lips that color. So he must wear lipstick, right?_

"Then the answer is no, Detective."

It took a few seconds for this to sink into Leon's distracted mind. To his astonishment, he found that he had moved around the table until he was standing face to face with the D and he couldn't remember taking a single fucking step. Scary thought, that.

"Come on, Count, give me a break!" Leon said, waving one finger in the other man's face. "There's nothing wrong with eating meat. It's perfectly natural. I'm a carnivore. The whole freaking world is made up of carnivores. We eat meat. That's what we do."

"It's disgusting and barbaric," D retorted, clearly not budging on the issue. "But then again, so are you, Detective."

"Yeah, maybe I am," Leon murmured, leaning back with a strangely smug smile on his face, "but you can't get enough of my, can you?"

"I – I have no idea what you are talking about," D stammered and to Leon's astonishment, a bright splash of color washed over his cheeks.

"I tell you what," Leon murmured, leaning in towards the other man. D eyed him warily, but did not pull away. "You fix whatever you want to. I'll eat it without comments or complaints. And things will continue on as they always have, okay?"

"O-okay…"

"Great. Then it's all settled," Grinning, Leon gave D a quick peck on the lips, which surprised the hell out of both him and D. The two men stared at each other in wide eyed astonishment for several long moments. As if in a daze, D raised his hand and touched the tip of his forefinger to his lips. Silence stretched to the breaking point.

Leon snapped out of it first. Clearing his throat, he glanced at his wristwatch. "Uh… I've got to run or I'm going to be late. See ya tomorrow, Count."

"Ah, yes… Good day, Detective."

Snatching his jacket from the back of the chair, Leon beat a hasty retreat from the shop. Once he hit the top of the steps, he stood there for a few moments, soaking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. All bumper car pile of confusing thoughts and emotions whirled through his mind, but one thing stood out from all the rest.

D's lip color wasn't from any lipstick.

THE END

Referring to the expression, "Over my dead body."


End file.
